


all at once this is enough

by iluvzuzu



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dean Winchester's Birthday, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hand Jobs, Kissing, M/M, Morning Sex, Secret Good Supernatural That Lives In My Head AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 22:40:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28964034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iluvzuzu/pseuds/iluvzuzu
Summary: dean wakes up with cas on his 42nd birthday. includes sexual content though very brief. takes place in a nebulous timeline that is post-canon but also ignoring canon, Jeremy Bearimy baby. hbd king <3
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 4
Kudos: 40





	all at once this is enough

When Dean wakes, it’s with heavy, warm arms around him and his face pressed into a solid, slow-breathing chest. _Cas,_ he thinks incoherently, inhaling the scent of laundry, soap, and skin, and just that hint of ozone, electricity. The smell of grace. He blinks his eyes open, feeling that it must be morning even in the dim light of this windowless room. Cas has his eyes closed, lips slightly parted, and Dean feels a soft, unbidden smile creep over his face. “Cas,” he murmurs, shifting in his arms to get a better look at Cas’s face. “Are you—sleeping?”

Castiel’s eyelids lift for him to give Dean a _look,_ somehow soft and stern at the same time. “Good morning, Dean,” he says. “Of course not. I was—meditating.” 

“Meditating?” Dean says, a fond sort of smirk crossing his lips. “Okay, Buddha.”

Cas’s eyes crinkle as he huffs out a little laugh. “I find being beside you while you sleep to be very… zen.” His fingers are tracing nonsense patterns across Dean’s back through his thin shirt, and Dean wants to curl into the touch like a cat, close his eyes and return to half-consciousness where he can forget who he is and just be the thing that is touched, nothing more.

But he chuckles, presses a kiss to the side of Cas’s neck. When he pulls back, Cas is looking at him intensely—does Cas look at him any other way, he muses—and jutting his chin forward almost imperceptibly. It’s a look Dean now knows how to interpret, though it took him long enough. He raises a hand to Cas’s jaw, feels the rough brush of stubble under his fingertips as he guides Cas’s mouth to meet his own. Cas accepts the kiss hungrily, turning them over so that he’s above Dean, hands roving over his hips, his chest, his arms, his face, his hair, kissing him hard into the mattress. Dean gasps into it as Cas’s knee slots between his legs, his own hands sneaking under the hem of Cas’s t-shirt. Cas is an absurdly good kisser, knows every place on Dean’s body that makes him quake and groan and laugh. And yeah, part of it _is_ that he’s always so fucking hungry for it, for Dean, Dean won’t deny that. Kissing Cas makes something in his chest burst open and spill out, like cayenne clearing the sinuses, like sunlight pushing through the cracks of boarded windows. What always surprises him is how easy it is; he doesn’t have to strategize, pull moves, plan the attack, so to speak. He just follows his instinct, does what feels good, and it turns out pretty much anything he tries makes Cas weak. 

Like now, he lifts his hand from Cas’s back to his hair, runs his fingers through it, swipes his thumb over Cas’s temple and ear, and a low whimper rises out of Cas’s throat. Dean smiles against his lips, lets Cas lick into his mouth, lets him press the palm of his hand to Dean’s rapidly beating heart. Honestly, he thinks, he’d let Cas do anything he wanted. 

But Cas pulls back, then, and smiles gently down at Dean, eyes impossibly fond. “Happy birthday,” he says softly. 

“Huh!” Dean laughs. “I forgot.” Cas gives him a little look out of the corner of his eye, and Dean says, “Well, for a second, I forgot,” he confesses, and Cas’s closed-lipped smile widens. 

“I suppose since you’ve died and been reborn so many times it might have lost its luster,” he says conversationally, rubbing his hand down Dean’s side and fiddling with the hem of his shirt. 

“You know, I won’t say no to a day all about me,” Dean says with a grin. “If you want to celebrate all the anniversaries of when I’ve come back to life, we can do that too.”

“Well, one of those is _our_ anniversary,” Cas says haughtily, and Dean can’t help beaming. 

“Yeah, yeah, this year I’ll be sure not to stab you,” he says. Cas is looking down at him, doing that thing he does with his chin, his penetrating gaze. Dean touches his cheek and says, rather gruffly, “You can just kiss me, you know.” Cas hesitates, so Dean continues, “You don’t have to ask.” 

Cas looks down, lips pressed together. “It’s still new,” he says. “I don’t want to scare you away.”

“Pfft, when have you ever seen me scared?” Dean asks, and when Cas meets his eyes again he feels a swoop in his gut. _Plenty of times,_ that’s the truth. “Hey,” he tries instead. “I told you, I’m in this. I’m all in.”

“I know,” Cas says, but his shoulders ease, his brow unfurrows itself, and he leans down to kiss Dean’s lips. It’s achingly slow, the parting of both sets of lips, the slide of tongues, the scrape of teeth on skin. Cas’s warm, strong hand grips Dean’s hip under his shirt, thumb rubbing circles into the bone that juts from beneath muscle and fat and skin. His knee still between Dean’s legs, he sucks Dean’s bottom lip into his mouth and Dean groans, bucks his hips up into Cas’s. In response, Cas tentatively slips his hand beneath the waistband of Dean’s boxers, stroking the skin of his lower tummy, fingers scratching through the trail of fine hair leading down from his belly button. Dean hums into his mouth, and feels Cas smile. 

Soon, Cas has got his mouth on Dean and Dean’s got his fingers in Cas’s hair, keening and panting, laughing when it tickles and groaning when it doesn’t. He comes with Cas’s hand on his balls and his name on his lips, soft white light blanking out his vision. When he returns to himself, Cas is jerking himself off on his knees on the bed beside Dean, and Dean immediately jumps to give him a hand with it, nipping Cas’s jaw and marking his neck as Cas rocks into both their hands. 

“ _I_ _love you_ ,” Cas growls into Dean’s mouth after he comes, shoving Dean back onto his back and taking him over. “I love you endlessly, and am _immeasurably_ glad you were born.”

Dean lets out a little “ _ha_ ” as he holds Cas to him, pulls him down on top of him, nuzzles his nose into Cas’s hair as Cas kisses down his jaw and neck. “You too, sweetheart,” he murmurs, and when Cas looks at him both of them are a little glassy-eyed. Cas kisses him fiercely, just a short, hard one, and pulls back with a tearful smile that makes his whole face scrunch up. 

“Let’s get cleaned up, get dressed,” he says, rubbing his thumb over Dean’s swollen lips, across his nose and the thin skin under his eye. “I have breakfast plans for us.” 

Dean perks up and feels his stomach growl at just the thought. “Breakfast!” 

Cas is grinning fondly at him, gums out and proud and the corners of his eyes crinkled to oblivion. “Anything you want,” he says, “my treat. Everyone’s meeting us there.” 

“Everyone?” Dean repeats, getting up to wipe himself down and change his clothes. 

Cas nods, still smiling. “You’ll see. It’s a surprise.” 

Dean moves to hold him and kisses him hard, hoping it’s even half as profound and passionate as the kisses Cas plants on him. “I love you so fucking much,” he murmurs into Cas’s skin, and Cas’s arms lock around him, steady and determined. 

“You are dearer to me than anything else in this universe or beyond it,” Cas returns, kissing several of his favorite freckles on Dean’s face softly. “Now. I know there is bacon somewhere calling out for you to consume it.” Dean can’t help but throw his head back to laugh, and Cas grins widely and chuckles along. 

Dean calms, squeezes Cas’s shoulder, and tells him, “Lead the way.”

**Author's Note:**

> I left "everyone" open-ended so that you, my dear reader, get to imagine for yourself who's coming to breakfast. Have a wonderful national holiday, folkxs. I wouldn't want to be unhinged with anybody else.  
> Title from King of My Heart by Taylor Swift, because if I'm going stupid I'm going all the way stupid.


End file.
